


You Alone

by Oliver__Niko



Category: A Saga of Light and Dark - T. J. Chamberlain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Sexual degradation, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Ely is able to take her to places no one else can, and love her when no one else will.
Relationships: Adrienne Cherri Smith/Ely Smith
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	You Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silver_fish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/gifts).



> This was commissioned by my good friend, Taylor! I was more than happy to write their OCs for them, especially as trauma etched with kink is my jam.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

Sometimes, it seems as though everything might end up being okay after all. To a degree, Adrienne almost feels like she might actually be _normal,_ before everything comes crashing down again.

She should have expected it. Every time Adrienne has to see _her,_ she is always left like this afterwards. Perhaps a tiny part of her hoped it would be different this time. She has hoped for such things many times, although she knows now that it’s practically useless to even consider this.

A shaky breath escapes her lips, head leaning back against the door behind her. She’s safe. She’s home. All she had to do was go back to where she once lived, pick up a few things she had left behind, and come back. Although of course, it hadn’t been that simple. It never is.

“ _He doesn’t love you. He won’t ever love a dirty, rotten whore like you.”_

Her mother had been silent at first, up until she spoke those words; they continuously ring in Adrienne’s ears, driving straight into her. She should have told Ely she was going. He could have been by her side through the process, or would have at least known to comfort her first.

And that’s the awful thing about her. She _knows_ that this is not his fault, that he cannot possibly know what she had to do today, but there is that small, tiny part of her which blames him for not assuming. It is convinced he will go against her, that he doesn’t truly love her after all, not enough to remain by her side.

She hates herself for that.

Adrienne’s eyes sting when she sits down, nails digging into her palms as a way to ground herself, but she doesn’t let any tears fall. She deems that as weakness. And it’s only with _him_ that she can allow herself to show that sense of vulnerability, to shed tears at all … When she thinks of this, how much her heart is yearning for that release, she realises that it’s exactly what she currently needs.

He’s a good person. Better than she is. And so, Adrienne is certain that he will know how to help her. There is simply a nagging thought in her mind, saying that says he doesn’t love her after all.

Ely arrives home not long after her. The air feels lighter when the door opens and closes after him, although simultaneously, Adrienne’s heart races; she isn’t sure why.

“Adrienne, I’m home!” he calls. “Adrienne?”

“In here,” she says. Barely a shout herself in response—she’s surprised that Ely even hears it, and soon emerges at the living room door.

“I managed to get off early,” he says with a smile. It’s soon to falter as he sees her. He, as always, can observe her better than anyone else can. “Are you okay?”

“Does it matter?”

She snaps, which clearly indicates that it does. Ely’s brow furrows. The bag over his shoulder is placed to one side, and he sits next to her on the sofa. Not touching her yet. His hand hovers as though it wishes to do exactly this, but he is always respectful of her boundaries, always wanting to keep her safe.

According to her mother, Adrienne doesn’t deserve that in the slightest. It’s easy for her to agree.

“It does matter,” says Ely. His voice is gentle, and Adrienne doesn’t know why this frustrates her. Perhaps, with how twisted and horrible and confusing as she is, she wants the opposite. “You know that your feelings always matter to me.”

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing that hasn’t ever happened before.”

There must be something in those words, perhaps Adrienne’s tone of voice, which speaks out to Ely. “Did something happen with your mother? Did she message you?”

Adrienne shakes her head. And, filled with a sudden desperation to finally admit the truth, she says, “I had to go around to her house, today.”

Ely sits up straighter, his eyes growing wide. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Adrienne’s eyes fall on the floor. The hands in her lap clench into fists. “And I told you that I would be honest with you about this, so if you’re angry—”

“I’m not. I know it’s difficult for you.” He’s slow, careful, when bringing a hand to her shoulder—he only touches her when she doesn’t move away. “Why did you have to go?”

“I left a couple of things there. Things from my childhood. And she refused to post them, so …” Adrienne’s lips purse. “She probably wanted me to go around so she could speak to me.”

“And what did she say?”

Adrienne merely shakes her head. Her mouth opens, closes, before she finally says, her voice weaker, “I don’t want to dwell on her. I just want to forget all of it.”

“Okay. And can I help you do that?”

“I—” Her eyes meet his. Desperate, she is certain, and he’d be able to read that as always. “I need us to ... I need _you_ to …”

Her words drift off. She always finds them difficult to say even now, after how many times they have done this.

It’s always the same. She wants to know he loves her, and to prove that he loves her, he has to be … the opposite, to how he is at this moment. He has to take care of her in all the ways that her mother accuses her of. Only it’s different, _he_ is different, which is what Adrienne’s mother cannot see.

A hand squeezes Adrienne's thigh. “If you’re sure that’s what you need,” he says, slightly quiet, “then that’s what I can give you.”

“Please, Ely.” She finds her voice strangely frail, weak, already feeling her knees grow weak over what she desperately craves. “I promise it is.”

He nods. The hand squeezes again, and within the blink of an eye, his lips are on hers.

It’s gentle for a moment. Or, at the very least, is somewhat light. He’s being careful, as he has to do often—he knows her better than anyone, knows that sometimes, she might lie about this to simply be hurt. Sometimes pain is still better than dwelling on her mother’s words.

But she’s improving with that, little by little. She means it when she says that she wants him to do this to her. And so, his gentleness is frustrating. She presses herself closer, hands grasping on his shirt with a grumble against his lips. And he can read that perfectly.

He deepens the kiss. A bite of her bottom lip causes her to gasp, granting him room to force his tongue into her mouth. His hands—hands that she _loves,_ more than anything else in this world—run over her thighs, squeezing them, before he uses them to lift her from the sofa. Her arms are around his neck in an instant.

Please, just let her forget, like he always lets her do.

He leads her away from the living room and into the hallway of their apartment. Her eyes are tightly closed, but she feels a hand shift away from her to reach behind them, opening the door to their bedroom. Her legs tighten around him to assist with keeping her upright. The door is kicked closed, and when she’s tossed down onto her back on the bed, her eyes finally open to stare at the figure hovering above her.

“Are you sure?” he asks. She appreciates it, she knows that she has to because he is being careful for _her,_ but at the moment, it’s somewhat frustrating. He should know this is all she needs.

“Don’t be so nice,” she says. “I want you to—speak down to me. Act as though I’m beneath you, Ely.”

There’s the slightest inclination of his head, showing he understands. His hands find her arms, pulling them up above Adrienne’s head; her wrists are pushed into the mattress, and the restriction causes her to squirm underneath him.

“Desperate already, aren’t you?” His tone has changed. An edge of darkness, one might say. “You fucking slut.”

Her teeth catch her lip, thighs pressing together. How she adores it. Perhaps it’s wrong of her, perhaps she is as sick and dirty as her mother as always said, but surely it is far, far healthier to bask in this when _he_ says it instead?

“Ely,” she says breathlessly. No, she doesn’t care whether it’s wrong or right. All she wants is to feel. “Please, kiss me.”

He does so. Vigorously, roughly, tongue back in her mouth with little chance to retaliate against it. She melts beneath him, moaning gently against his lips. Her wrists are brought together to be pinned by one hand. His other hand trails down her front instead. Sliding over the buttons of her shirt, popping each one open. It slips inside, cupping her breast through her bra, and she finds herself gasping for air when the kiss breaks.

“Remember the safeword, if this becomes too much,” he says. This time, she nods without annoyance, too swept away by the hand which squeezes her breast.

“Please."

“Still begging, before I’ve barely done anything at all to you.” A thumb slips beneath the material of the bra, finding her nipple. She gasps. “Always such a whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ely, _yes—”_

He smirks. The sight of it sends a shiver down her spine. He leans down, pulling apart either side of her shirt to grant better access. Pulling down the cup of her bra, lapping a tongue over the nipple instead—she moans, even whimpers, as his other hand traces over her stomach.

So, so desperate for him. She always is.

“Lower, lower,” she finds herself saying, closing her eyes when Ely moves his mouth to the nipple of her other breast. Another moan, and her heart beating faster in anticipation the further Ely’s hand trails down her body.

It presses over her crotch through her trousers. The material is too much all of a sudden, and Adrienne finds herself sighing in relief when he unfastens their button. He tugs down the zip, and before long, the trousers are removed and tossed to the side, before his hands return to her instead.

Fingers stroke over her increasing arousal through her lingerie. She squirms again, reaching her hands towards Ely, moaning softly when he pushes them back down above her head.

“No,” he says simply. “ _I_ am touching _you._ Understand?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Sorry.”

“You can apologise by letting me hear you scream my name.” A smirk returns to his face, as he continues the teasing of his fingers over her lingerie. “You’re already so wet, Adrienne. Look at you, pathetic under my hands.”

“A- _ah—”_ She cries out the moment his hand slips beneath the lingerie. His thumb teases over her clitoris, other hand now stroking over the side of her waist, down to her hip and to her rear; he squeezes it as he continues to stoke her. “More, Ely, more—”

“More? More of what?”

“Y-your fingers, please, I—” she moans again, shocks of pleasure coursing through her the more he teases. “Inside me, please, please.”

“You want it that badly, don’t you? You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ely.” She nods almost frantically. Her back arches to bring her closer to those fingers she so desperately craves, hands beginning to tangle in the bed covers. “I’m yours, your slut, always—”

“That’s right.”

She lets out a whine as his hand pulls away from her, but it’s only for both to yank her lingerie down her thighs instead. His fingers stroke down towards her entrance, meeting her eyes to seek that moment of affirmation, before he slides them inside her.

“ _Ah!_ Oh, God, Ely—”

“Loving that already, aren’t you?” he questions as he picks up the pace of his fingers. She nods, grasping onto the bed covers tighter and tighter, one eye closed; she _has_ to keep the other open, needing to see that gaze fixed on her, how much they brim with lust over seeing her this way.

These desires of hers can’t be disgusting and wrong after all, if someone as wonderful as him, the first one to ever see her true self, enjoys it as well.

He soon increases the pace of those fingers. His other hand wanders, caressing her chest, squeezing with purpose. Adrienne writhes. Twisting against the bed, stuttering beg after beg, because now, sheer arousal is slowly taking over all those negative thoughts inside her head.

“Need more, Ely,” she gasps out. “Ngh, please, I-I—”

“Ready to take it all, like the whore you are?”

She nods frantically. There is a sense of loss when his fingers leave her, although her watery eyes open to watch him reach over to their night-stand. He pulls a condom out of its wrapper, other hand hardening his erection further. A kiss is placed on the side of her head as he covers himself in the condom. The lube is next, his lips meeting hers this time, capturing her gasp as the head of his erection slides towards her entrance.

A nod from her, and it slips inside, earning a cry immediately.

“A-ah, _Ely!”_

“You always feel so perfect,” Ely says, letting out a groan as his hips begin to take control of his pace. “Made for this, aren’t you?”

She nods, the side of her head falling against the bed, still gripping tightly at the covers around it. “I’m yours,” she gasps out. “I-I’m yours, Ely.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him smile. He keeps one hand on her hip to maintain his rhythm inside her. His other hand guides her head to turn around, allowing their mouths to meet. She moans louder as he finds that sweet spot inside her, granting him room to slip his tongue back inside; every cell is on fire, her head is reaching further and further into the clouds, and she loves it all.

And she manages to remember that, alongside her loving him, he loves her as well.

The pair soon arrive at both of their climaxes. Breathless names escaping reddened, swollen lips—Adrienne _screams_ out Ely’s name, growing limper on the bed as she catches her breath, suddenly drained. She welcomes that far more than her mind growing frantic.

Ely slows to a stop, pulls out, and his gentle finger wipes tears away from her eyes—she hadn't even noticed she started crying. “Are you okay?” he asks, to which she nods, sliding her hand over the back of his neck to bring him down into a kiss.

The condom is discarded after, Ely now using wipes as a temporary measure to clean them both up—a bath will soon follow, but for now, Adrienne simply needs to bask in everything she feels, and Ely already knows this.

“I needed that,” says Adrienne, smiling as Ely lays down next to her, arms wrapping around her to bring her closer to his body. Her head rests against his chest. “Thank you.”

“You know that I want to do anything I can to help you. Besides, I enjoy it myself. I always do.” His lips press on the top of her head. “I do wish you told me you had to go see her.”

“Mm. I just—I don’t think anything you said would have helped. I would have got defensive and lashed out, probably.” She lets out a sigh, managing to smile over the fingers tracing circles over her back. “It might seem weird to some people, who don’t really get why I enjoy this. But it helps a lot, and it makes me feel … loved, when you’re the one to be like this to me. And it’s relaxing to let go of the control.”

“That’s why I’m always happy to do this to you. And you know that you can always come ask this of me, don’t you?”

She lifts her head from his chest, giving him a nod as her hand cups his cheek. “I do now.”

Their lips meet again, soft and tender, all the things that Adrienne is slowly learning that she does, indeed, deserve. And she has him to thank for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me on Twitter @oliver__niko and @nikobynight.


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